Backstabbing, Conspiracies and Eggnog
by Gomes
Summary: [HouseCuddy] ...what about your perverted fantasies? xXChapFourXx
1. Unsettling Discovery

Title: Backstabbing, Conspiracy and Eggnog  
Author: Gomey  
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag...hehe.  
Rating: Strong R  
Spoilers: Humpty Dumpty  
Pairings: House/Cuddy + Cuddy/Wilson friendship  
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.  
Summary: "...but what about your perverted fantasies?"

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Bend over."

"Excuse me?"

Greg closed his eyes, letting out a bored sigh. "You're having trouble sitting down, but you haven't found any 'gross bumps' as you so eloquently put it, thus ruling out hemorrhoids. So...do you want me to find out what is wrong, or not?"

The young woman nodded, twirling the ring that encased her left ring finger.

"Great!" Greg clapped his hands together, before opening up a drawer. "Pants down. Bend over." He paused, smiling slightly sadistically. "Oh, I never tire of that!"

The woman looked at him aghast before complying with his demands, nervously shimming out of her tight hip-hugger jeans, revealing a fluffy baby-pink g-string, one size too small.

"Either you still don't know your panty size, or your boyfriend-who-just-proposed-to-get-you-into-bed has a fetish," he mumbled, his thoughts directed at the minuscule garment.

"What?" She whipped her head around, glancing at him over her shoulder, as she thrust her buttocks out. "This...what you're doing now, this is going to help, right?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Nah," he snapped on a latex glove, "I just really really enjoy anal."

* * *

Greg pushed open the door to her office, taking a seat in front of an empty desk. He glanced around, thumping his cane on the floor, welcoming the silence.

"You are unbelievable!" She breezed in, whacking him behind the head as she past by.

"Really? Hmm...I don't remember you being there last night, but then again, there were a _lot_ of people, I wouldn't be surprised if I - oh, you weren't talking about that. And what's this with all the bathroom breaks? Have something baking in the oven, Dr. Cuddy?" He asked sweetly.

She glared at him, straightening out her desk, refusing to answer his question. "You are damn lucky she doesn't sue for sexual harassment. Because that's all you need, another lawsuit in your folder which, by the way, you have an entire cabinet dedicated to your name."

"What can I say...I don't like to share."

"Y'think?" She retorted, shaking her head.

"She won't sue for sexual harassment - too embarrassing for her. Besides, she kind of liked it." He stood up, pacing the area in front of her desk. "And just what is the law on sexual harassment because I feel that I have been made a victim."

Lisa opened her mouth, the corners twisting into a toothy grin. "You...victim of sexual harassment? Just because they don't adhere to your perverted fantasies doesn't make you a victim, House."

"No...but what about your perverted fantasies?"

She narrowed her eyes momentarily, not sure whether or not to call his bluff. "What are you talking about?" She once again found comfort in straightening up her desk, giving her means of distraction from his piercing stare.

"See, this has been plaguing me every since Chico Jones fell off your roof -"

"- his name is Alfredo."

"Bah, minor detail," he disregarded her correction, "when I was inspecting your house - for medical purposes only - I came across a dresser. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he slapped a hand on her desk, effectively startling her. "Wrong-o!" He straightened up his body, now towering over her petite form. "When opening the first drawer which contained," he pretended to think, "either t-shirts or sexy lingerie, can't remember which one," he lied, "a certain picture seemed to have been mistaken for clothing."

"House..." she warned.

"A picture of Robert Chase -"

" - so how does that make **you** a victim?" She interrupted, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Oh wait," he snapped his fingers, lips pressed together in a pout, "it was **me**! I just told Chase that it was a shrine dedicated to him so he wouldn't feel left out."

"Okay, so you've made your point," she gritted out through clenched teeth, motioning the door with a sweeping gesture.

"Now why would the sexy Dean of Medicine have a picture of her arch-enemy, the head of Diagnostics?" He paused, taping his index finger to his stubbly chin. "And why, of all places, would she keep it in her no-no drawer?"

"If you had checked the other drawers, you would have found pictures of the other staff members," her words fell out in a pitiful puddle of lies. "Dr. Cameron resides in my pyjama drawer, Dr. Foreman hangs out with my socks, and Dr. James lives with my pants."

"...yeah, I bet you would like him in your pants." Greg muttered, looking at her, unconvinced.

She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes, exhausted. "House...it's five o'clock." She stood up, palms flat on the desk, offering her support.

"Time goes by and you still haven't answered my question," he countered, eyes staring at her, unblinking.

She gazed back at him, searching out answers in his bright blues. Silence lay heavily on both their shoulders as their battle waged out without movement. Lisa finally broke, eyes leveling with the desk. "It's five, and unfortunately, annoying me isn't in your job description. Work day's over...go home."

He gripped his cane a little tighter, his eyes keenly observing her posture, her body language and finally the fear in her eyes. Giving her a curt nod, he swivelled on his left leg and exited her office, leaving Lisa to breathe a little easier.

–TBC–


	2. Competition

(disclaimers et all in first chapter)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Days had passed since her embarrassing encounter with Greg, and Lisa was quite content with the fact that it hadn't been brought up to this date. The level of awkwardness between them hadn't risen and she was quite surprised that he didn't use his knowledge on the subject to blackmail her.

In a fluid movement, she swiped her mail off her assistant's desk and pushed open the glass door with the other hand. Shrugging off her lab coat, she sifted through her mail, tossing the bills in her 'in' tray and the complaints on an open folder that reposed on the desk. She cocked her head to the side, regarding the last one with a dangerous mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, in a fine scrawl, her name stared back at her. She knew it was from him, and fought the urge to just toss it in the garbage. However, her inquisitive nature pushed past and she sat down on her chair, retrieving her letter opener and gently slicing through the top of the envelop. She extracted the small card and passed her fingers along the printed surface of a fat, slob-like Santa Claus sitting on a recliner, complete with stained undershirt, pants undone and unshaven. In black marker, she realized that Greg had drawn a stethoscope around Santa's neck and drew a cane leaning against the side of the couch as well as a beer in his hand. Under the picture, the caption bore some eye-rolling humour: _everybody needs a few days off_.She opened up the card and shook her head, fighting back a smile. There, where one would normally read: _so why don't you take a couple off_, was crossed out, and instead neatly written _don't you think I deserve a few too_?

She closed the card and placed it in the drawer, letting out a small chuckle. At least some effort had been made on his behalf, whether it had to annoy or please as eventual intent. She was about to toss the envelop in the garbage when a picture fell out and gently feathered towards the floor. She bent down and picked it up, her eyes scanning it. Her hand immediately covered her eyes and she felt her cheeks flush as she peeked through spread fingers in order to view the picture once more. There, with a strategically placed stethoscope, sat a naked Dr. Gregory House, staring defiantly into the camera...crisp blue eyes daring hers. She flipped the picture over, her eyes sweeping over the words though her mind still held the picture offered._ To keep your other picture warm at night - if you want the real thing, you know where to find me_.She chewed on her lip, trying vainly to prevent a schoolgirl smile to wash across her face as she once more looked the photograph over. Tucking the picture into the card, she then placed the duo in her bag before heading towards the door. Flipping off the light switch, she threw on her coat, bid farewell to the other nurses and headed towards the parking lot; a mischievous smile brewing.

* * *

She glanced back at her car, parked on the side of the street, right behind his vehicle. Tightening the belt that held her wool jacket closed, she knocked lightly on the door, torn between wanting him to answer and wanting him to ignore. Her mind had already made plans to vacate the small porch but her body denied any movement as she waited patiently.

"For a second I was sure a mouse was paying me a visit," he mumbled, opening the door and leaning against it. He took in her rosy cheeks, knowing that it wasn't solely a result from the frigid air. "I take it you got my Christmas card." He pushed the door closed once she had stepped inside.

She glanced up, unable to meet him in the eyes. Her eyes opted instead to travel down the length of his body, from his loose jogging pants to the ratty t-shirt that rested snugly against his upper-torso. "I uh...yeah," she stuttered out, finally meeting his gaze. "I just wanted to stop by to give you your Christmas present." She held out a small package, "Tendo Dokuta, for your DS. Let's you play doctor."

He took the package from her hand, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his lips. "You're very amusing." He held her gaze momentarily before looking down at the game. "So while I try to escape from Clinic duty I can play a simulation medical game. Nice. But, it still doesn't beat mine." He wiggled his eyebrows, once again taking satisfaction at the reddish tint that graced her skin.

"I'm not done."

"Oh?" Both eyebrows sat high on his forehead. "So Santa's being extra nice to the naughty. I see..."

She took a deep breath and reached for her belt, tugging it open with ease. She allowed the coat to flow open, revealing her garments underneath.

Greg's mouth fell open and his eyes never strayed from her form, taking in the contrast that the cadmium-red lace teddy created on her skin. His eyes trailed down the matching garter-belt, down her long, toned legs to the red stiletto heels that granted her some added height that he hadn't noticed before. His eyes snapped to her face, and he fought a losing battle to keep them focused on her stare instead of traveling back down her body.

She took a step forward, reaching up and placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. "...if your offer still stands."

He reached out slowly, tentatively at first, until his hand came in contact with her firm tummy. He applied a little pressure, eyes still fixated on her cleavage, tempting mounds pushed up slightly by the lacy design.

"Greg?"

He took a step back, glancing over his shoulder before closing his eyes forcibly.

Lisa too, backed away from his form, recognizing the voice instantly. She quickly pulled the belt, tying it securely at her waist, just as Stacy walked into the room.

"Lisa, I," she let out a small laugh, if nothing out of nervousness and to gather her bearings, "I thought I heard some voices." She placed herself slightly behind Greg, almost using him as a human shield though intent wise was to cover her lack of clothing.

Lisa looked at Stacy, clad only in Greg's button-down shirt that he had worn to work that day, and then back at Greg. "Yea, just came in to..."

" ...to hand me a present. DS game - very thoughtful," Greg added, showing Stacy the package without looking at her.

"So are you and Mark -"

" - separated," Stacy added, a bit too quickly.

Silence held its ground as Stacy gazed at Greg who was watching Lisa who was staring down at his bare feet. "I should go," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "for all I know I'm double parked." She turned and opened the door, walking briskly towards her car.

"Lisa."

"What?" She didn't turn around, but stood there, shoulders hunched and hand gripping the handle tightly. She finally glanced over her shoulder, watching him stand there, his eyes holding hers. "What, House? What!" Her voice trembled as she tried to make anger present, but she knew disappointment and embarrassment were probably the two emotions that slapped her in the face.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbled softly, head bowed.

She watched him until he closed the door, and stayed rooted in place moments after. She finally climbed into her car, resting her forehead on the cold steering wheel as she stared straight ahead at the dashboard. Pulling out of her parking spot, she drove quickly, wanting desperately to arrive home and just crawl into bed.

–TBC–


	3. We Didn't Okay?

(disclaimers et all in first chapter)

**Chapter Three

* * *

**

"Eggnog...how festive."

Lisa held the door open, smiling as he walked in. She took in the smell of his aftershave, a gentle hint of spice and musk. "It's Christmas time - my only excuse," she responded dryly, helping him out of his coat with one hand, while the other raised the glass to her lips.

James let out a small chuckle as he walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable. In an odd way, he always felt at home at her place. Before Greg's infarction, at a time when Stacy and Greg were the envied couple, he and Lisa would play the role of significant-other, whenever in their company. It worked out well, since he was between marriages at the time, and for some reason he could never understand, she was without a man. Sexual intimacy had never presented itself, but their friendship had unmistakably blossomed. What Greg never realized, was that his infarction didn't just affect his and Stacy's relationship, but all of their woven friendships seemed to fray - some to a harsher degree.

Lisa leaned over the back of the couch and held a glass in front of his face, "do you have anything to celebrate?"

"Lisa," he mumbled, giving her a questioning look as he smelled the liquid, "is that...vodka?"

She shrugged, collapsing on the couch beside him. "I have a lot to celebrate."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "House?"

"Your best-friend is an idiot. Bottom's up!" She finished off her eggnog, placing the glass on the coffee table before leaning her forehead against the arm of the couch.

He shrugged, making no effort to hide the smile that slid into place. He glanced at her, his eyes taking in her form. He had always been comfortable around Lisa, and he suspected that another life, another time would have brought much love between the two. Unfortunately, the dominant side of her heart was held by another. He knew some affection lay, but the devotion was directed elsewhere.

He took a sip, wincing slightly but still feeling warmed. Stretching his legs out, he glanced at the fireplace, enjoying the homely feel the room boasted. He listened to the fire crackle and hiss, warming and lighting the room with an intimate glow. The flames proved mesmerizing and he only snapped out of his trance when he felt her head rest against his lap. He glanced down, a small smile playing, "we haven't done this since my second divorce - just the two of us -"

"- where someone is drowning one's sorrows with liquor?" She added, pressing her forehead against his thigh.

"I never did thank you...for lending me your couch when the Mrs. would kick me out, for listening to me..." He added, his hand gently stroking the soft curls of her hair.

"Well, you're making it up to me now," she mumbled, "I just didn't want to be alone."

James sighed, finishing off his drink and placing it on the coffee table. "What did he do now?"

"Not _what_ he did but _who_," Lisa spat out, "and I _had_ to go over there, and make an idiot of myself."

James sighed, his fingers still caressing her hair. "I never thought _she_ would cheat...then again House seems like the guy to cheat, but deep down, I never thought he would either."

"I just don't understand why he leads me on, pushing me to the edge and then just pulls back," she sighed, staring at the fire. She stretched her arm out, pretending to catch the errant embers that escaped the fiery confinements, despite the flames being well out of her reach.

"House is a dominating man. As soon as someone makes a move, he gets scared." James reasoned, finishing off his eggnog. He placed the glass on the floor, beside the couch.

"I highly doubt that House is afraid of me," she commented dryly, rolling her eyes.

"He wants someone he can control - he feels safe then. He would rather have a submissive partner because it gives him an easy way out when he feels threatened. _You_ would fight for him, and he knows that."

"Stacy is _not_ submissive."

"But he knows Stacy - knows what buttons to push. She's also vulnerable which does translate into a certain level of obedience. Trust me, House knows you'll put up a fight and then he'll be stuck having to actually _deal_ with issues emotionally."

She turned on her back, looking up to him as his words thickened her hope slightly. "You really think?"

"Hey, I'm the bastard's best friend."

Lisa smiled, reaching up and cupping his cheek. Suddenly her brow furrowed, "I'm not keeping you from Julie, am I?"

"No, she's down visiting her relatives before Christmas. She's scheduled to fly back on the 24th," he replied, not looking the least bit bothered.

"You didn't go with her?" Lisa inquired, hands clasped together and resting on her stomach.

"I told her that they needed me at work, you know, being so close to Christmas -"

" - James," Lisa interrupted him, "you could have taken a few days off -"

" - Okay," it was his turn to curb her words, "_I_ needed work," he admitted sheepishly, smiling off her laughter. "You don't understand: I love Julie, but unfortunately my devotion doesn't lie with her parents. Especially her father who has it set in his mind that I'm a wuss."

"I could see his point," she teased, enjoying his pout and tinted cheeks, "I'm kidding. Trust me, you're not weak. You've just never been pushed to that level." She took in a deep breath, her body relaxing, "besides, it's the strong silent ones that people need to be afraid of," her voice sailed into a murmur as she drifted off, aided by the magic ingredient in her eggnog.

James sighed, glancing down at her. His fingers still skimmed through her hair, playing with each strand before moving to the next. With little movement, he toed off his shoes and stretched his legs. Leaning his head back against the couch, he stared up at the ceiling before his eyes began to close.

* * *

"Lisa?"

Lisa glanced up before quickly averting her gaze, fixing her eyes on the papers in front of her. "Stacy, hi." She greeted, taking out a folder and lavishing forced attention on the accounting sheets instead of the woman now sitting in front of her.

"Lisa, I just wanted to apologize -"

" - for yesterday? Hey, don't worry about it...I should be apologizing for intruding -"

" - nothing happened." Stacy mentioned, slightly louder than intended. Pressing her lips together, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "We fooled around a bit but," she sighed, offering a shrug, "I don't think either of us could go through with it. I'm not saying that what we did - what we didn't do, makes it okay, but..."

"Stacy, you don't need to explain yourself to me, you're a grown adult -"

" - who doesn't want to lose your respect. I don't want you to think that I would purposefully hurt Mark like that."

Lisa opened her mouth but then closed it, slightly taken aback. She stared at the other woman, a mixture of anger, pity and the threads of a friendship battling it out. "You still have my respect," she finally said, offering Stacy a sincere smile. She watched the other woman leave, her eyes following her until she disappeared into the elevator. She picked up the file and perused it before her eyes caught glimpse of a certain man in a white lab coat. She smiled softly to herself before heading towards the door, her eyes trained on his back. "Dr. Wilson," she called out, walking up to the reception desk where he was reviewing a chart.

"How are you feeling?" James put the chart down, offering his full attention to her.

Greg remained hidden behind a pillar, listening to snippets of their conversation. Eyes downcast, he offered his full attention to their conversation, curiosity always being acknowledged.

Lisa sighed, leaning against the counter. "I can't believe I fell asleep on top of you like that," she answered, ignoring his question. "How's your back? You know, the hospital has a really great masseuse, the first three sessions will be my treat."

James laughed, shaking his head. "I'm fine, I've slept in worse positions."

She smiled, giving his arm a small squeeze. "I wanted to thank you for last night, I really needed that...just the company, you know?"

James smiled, offering a slight nod. "My pleasure." He watched her walk back to her office, a certain warmth spreading throughout his body. "Heading home?" He called out to her, pointing at his watch. "Someone's ducking out of work early."

She spun around, a mock-pained look upon her face. "I'm the Dean of Medicine, I can do whatever the hell I want." Her tone was indignantly humourous and she gave him a wink before heading once more, towards her office.

Turning, he began to walk down the hall towards the elevator.

"Well, that should give the nurses something to talk about."

He jumped slightly, surprised by Greg's presence beside him. "Remind me to get you a bell for Christmas," James muttered, slowing down slightly and allowing Greg to catch up.

"So you and Cuddy, huh? Figures, you do like the dominating types." He limped beside his best-friend, stopping at the elevators. "You _do_ know you're the rebound guy, right?"

"There's nothing going on between Cuddy and I," James began. "A renewed friendship at most. But even if there was something more, I don't see how that affects you."

Greg cocked his head to the side, agreeing with James. "True."

"I mean, _you_ seduced Stacy - you two are back together, right?"

He glanced up, a certain surprise sparkling in his blues. "Did Cuddy tell you that? That _I_ seduced Stacy?"

"C'mon House, this has your fingerprints all over it. Stacy would never willingly cheat on Mark." James stepped into the elevator, holding it open for Greg.

"No, you're right. I held a gun to her head. Look, she came to me." Greg replied, leaning against the wall as the elevator began its ascension.

"Because you played with her mind, confused her -"

"- she was already thinking about it, had been for a long time." He interrupted the oncologist, unsure as to why they were actually having this conversation.

"Thinking and doing are two different things - "

" - yes, says the wise and horny oncologist. So let me ask you: did you just think about doing her last night, or did you actually do her." His words were venomous, eyes averted from his best-friend's form. "So if I think about doing Cuddy, it wouldn't be considered cheating."

"No, because you are the cheatee not the cheated." James exited the elevator, turning to face the diagnostician. "And why are you so interested in whether or not Cuddy and I slept together?"

"Because you're married," Greg replied in a typical 'James Wilson' fashion.

"And so is Stacy - what makes what you did anymore right?"

"Stacy and I didn't sleep together." Greg spoke softly, unsure whether relief or regret was present in his heart.

"Neither did Cuddy and I." His tone was almost competitive, almost to a pompous extent.

"Good that we've established that," Greg muttered, eyeing his best-friend with a curious look, almost as if he was trying to read him. He glanced down, feeling his pager vibrate. "Damn, I thought I had changed my pager number," he held it up, tapping the screen. "Fifteen minutes until I'm free and She-Devil summons me for one last torturing soul."

"Don't you mean _tortured_?" James asked, watching Greg step back into the elevator.

"Right, think on who's the one suffering: me or some snotty-faced kid with a some random object jammed in some random unmentionable place." He shot back, watching his friend as the doors closed.

James stood there, hands on hips and staring at the door. "I don't know, seems like a tough call," he muttered to himself, before heading towards his office.

–TBC–


	4. Still an Asshole

(disclaimers et all in first chapter)

**

* * *

Chapter Four**

He limped towards the reception desk, eyes trained on her form. "You _vibrated _me?" He asked with sickly sweetness, waving his pager in the air. His brow furrowed slightly, "you're dressed."

Her mouth fell open, and anger flashed behind her eyes.

"To go, I mean," he corrected himself, though an ambiguous smile did form as he fingered the material of her jacket.

She averted her gaze, batting his hand away and trying to collect her bearings. She could still feel the pressure of his hand against her tummy; that nightmarish fantasy from the day before. When morn had arisen and James had left, she had been too scared to even look at herself in the mirror - afraid to see some invisible mark still present on her skin. Her shower had been done with closed eyes and with efficient rapidity, a race against time to wash away any evidence. "You have a patient waiting for you in exam three," she held out a folder.

"It's ten to; if you get to duck out early, _I'm_ leaving early." He took the folder, and smacked it on the counter, drawing the attention of a few nurses and patients awaiting to be seen.

Lisa glanced at the nurses and then back at Greg. "It's ten to five, and _you_ still have time to see another patient." She picked up the folder and held it out again. "He's complaining of chest pains."

"Maybe he has a broken heart," Greg cried out melodramatically, placing a hand to his chest. "Oh, hey, isn't that your department? Maybe you'd be better for the job, _Dr._ Cuddy."

Tears burned behind her eyes but pride refused to let them fall. Though not seen, she knew he sensed her sadness - she had seen, reflected in his eyes, moment's realization of limits traversed. Dropping the file on the floor, she turned away from her conflicting emotions, her only defense being her retreat.

"Foot in mouth syndrome?"

Greg glanced to his left, feeling his best-friend's hand give him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't you know it," he mumbled, eyeing the oncologist's departure with a mixture of suspicion and jealousy. He limped to the door, following both hasty exits and watched them through the glass.

James walked out, breaking into a light jog. He stopped a few feet away, observing her carefully. "You okay?"

"He's such a jackass!" She exclaimed, pounding her fist on the hood of her car. "Does he get off on being cruel?"

He sighed, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets. "Knowing House, malice is probably an aphrodisiac." He closed the distance between them, standing in front of her. "Look, you know he can be an asshole, I know he can be an asshole - anyone who has met him realizes that. But he's one of the good kind of assholes," James reasoned, unsure as to the point of his logic.

"He's still an asshole," Lisa exhaled, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Exactly, so why let it get to you now?"

"Because I'm tired, Jimmy. I'm tired of always being his target. Eventually," she continued, shaking her head with a tired laugh. "Eventually it wears you down, it breaks down your defenses and actually...hurts."

His eyes softened upon hearing the sincerity in her voice, and he gave her a small nod. "Care for him, love him even...but don't let him get to you."

She took a step forward giving him a hug, face pressed against his chest, breathing in his scent through is jacket. She opened her car door, glancing at him over her shoulder. "If you get lonely..." she left the thought hanging. Keying the engine, she rolled down her window. "Oh and bring booze." She called out, before driving off.

James stood there, hands on hips, smiling before heading off to his own vehicle.

Greg watched them both, bright blues following his best-friends' cars as they pulled out of the parking lot. He didn't bother turning around when he heard a gruff voice call out his name.

"Dr. House? I'm Mike Leary. I've got these pains in my chest and I don't know why. So what do I do? What should I take?"

He turned around, eyeing the obese man who stood a little too close for comfort. Taking out his wallet, he pulled out two business cards, slapping them into Mike's chubby hand before walking off towards his office. "Your choice," he called, over his shoulder.

Mike glanced at the cards, sticky fingers spreading glaze over them. "I...don't get it..."

"Look," Greg turned around, misplaced anger bubbling. "Either you make a conscious choice now, of which I suggest the first card, or your body makes it for you and then, I suggest you call the latter ASAP." He grunted, walking away.

Mike glanced down, licking his thumb, lips sucking remnants of honey glaze from the doughnut he had roughly shoved in his mouth while seated in the waiting room. "So the first one, then?" He called after the retreating doctor, waving the business card in the air. He read the card, brow furrowed. "Jim's Gym." Shaking his head, he let out a raucous laugh. "A gym!" His eyes then fell upon the second card, thumb tracing the embossed picture of a casket, underneath the italicized 'Lotti Funeral Home'. He shuddered slightly and pocketed the first card, tossing the second into the trash.

* * *

He returned to his office, sitting down heavily in his chair. What exactly _was_ his intent concerning Lisa. Did he just want a good time with her or was there actually a relationship in the making, a desire so secret that he himself wasn't even aware. Maybe he was just being territorial. He shook his head and gathered his backpack, slinging it over his left shoulder as he made his way to the elevators. 

The sun was just setting as he stepped out the hospital, offering a crisp picture of the expanse of a cloudless-sky up above. Despite the brilliance in colour, the air grew colder without the fluffy blankets suspended in the Heavens. He focused on watching his breath materialize in front of him and then vanish with invisible currents of air, consequence of his own movements and those all around him.

_For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction_. He sighed. Newton wasn't just theorizing on the laws of physics, but those of the psyche too.

–tbc–


End file.
